


And a Star to Steer Her By

by wede_fic (frahulettaes)



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-08
Updated: 2009-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frahulettaes/pseuds/wede_fic
Summary: Morgan's Free Rangers: A Tale of Courage and Daring in the Tayasha BadlandsEaster EggClive Owen/Samantha Ferrishttps://fanlore.org/wiki/Morgan%27s_Free_Rangers
Relationships: Clive Owen/Samantha Ferris





	And a Star to Steer Her By

She never gets tired of being on the endless blue of the deep seas. The teak under her feet is smooth as polished stone, warm and alive and golden in the setting sun. The sails are swollen with wind, tight and pulling against their ropes. Here in the forecastle, the rushing wind cuts like a blade, spray mists her eye lashes, and she feels as though she's flying. 

She tilts her chin up, lets the last rays of the sun wash her vision orange yellow and smiles, heart thrilling to the heaving sea..

One more day to Frisco and time wasted on land. At least a fortnight. Her smile fades as the sun sets, darkens the sea to musty brown green and her mood with it. She opens her eyes into the dimming light and straightens her doublet, frowns at the damp on her muslin sleeves, scoops her coat from the coiled pile of rope and makes her way down the steps to the main deck.

“Set the watch, Owen, we'll make Frisco by morning, I reckon. Need the crew rested and fed.” Captain Ferris again, duty transforming her into what the men want to see. “And a serving of rum all around. We've made good time, thanks to them. Please be so kind as to thank them for me.”

“Aye, Captain.” Owen says and knuckles his forehead. He's a good man, solid, quiet, trustworthy. He's been her bossun for nigh on ten year. She thinks about making an honest man of him. She's not getting younger and there won't be any children, but she loves him and something about getting married sets right in her belly. She wouldn't be the first captain to marry their bossun.

A quarter past the watch before she makes it back to their cabin, tired, damp and hungry. But the ship's in order, running fine and smooth in a following sea and she's desperate for warmth and food. 

They share the wide, low room just below the forecastle with windows facing the oncoming wind and a low, wide, rope slung bed. The ceiling is low so Owen sits, his stool nearest the tiny stove, the table beside him spread with linen and pewter, bowls steaming, loaves fixed with bone handled knives. 

It's simple fare, but warm and plenty and once they've eaten and he's taken her wet clothes away they crawl into the rope bed and he brushes her long red hair. It's quiet, all the but those on watch sleeping. She can just hear Benjamin, tinyest of their midshipmen, singing softly, the gaelic barely discernable.


End file.
